


with speed, and with care

by sweet westerlies (emblems)



Series: SASO2017 [12]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Fic amnesty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblems/pseuds/sweet%20westerlies
Summary: written for the following prompt:Zombie Apocalypse AU. Bokuto Koutarou is one of the best runner in the country's last frontier and safe haven. Akaashi is a comms operator and helps him during supply runs. They've never met before, but they talk to each other everyday over the radio, even if Bokuto is not out on a run. He starts falling in love with the voice on the other line.





	with speed, and with care

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10631186#cmt10631186) for sports anime shipping olympics 2017.

Akaashi’s voice is cool and neutral over the radio:

“Did you stretch today, Bokuto-san?”

It’s a recurring conversation for them—a familiar question from Akaashi met with a familiar answer:

“You know I always do, Akaashi.”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi responds. “I’ve never actually seen you at all, so how could I know for certain?” He flips through a series of satellite images, fresh from a recent download, reviewing today’s route—planned for safety first, efficiency second, as always.

He hears the telltale smushing and rubbing sounds that indicate Bokuto is adjusting his earpiece.

“Stop fiddling with the earpiece, Bokuto-san.”

“This new one is shaped funny,” Bokuto complains. “Don’t want it to fall out—” here his tone shifts, and Akaashi can hear the grin in his voice. “Wouldn’t want to miss the sound of your voice, now would I?”

He says it as if he and Akaashi didn’t just speak yesterday afternoon, talking about nothing in particular while Akaashi planned today’s route in the comms office. That Bokuto had yesterday off didn’t matter—he still called, as he did every day.

Akaashi feels a smile quirk at the corner of his mouth, and he’ll deny the trace of fondness that trickles into his voice when he says: “Let’s just focus on completing this run, Bokuto-san.”

About two seconds go by before Bokuto, predictably, disregards Akaashi’s suggestion and asks, “Hey, did you finish that book I brought back for you last week?”

The one that he had shoved into his pack, taking up valuable space that he could have used for other supplies and necessities, just because Akaashi mentioned—off-hand—that he got bored sometimes, stuck in the bunker with little to do outside of his comm shifts.

The book sits, dog-eared and already read three times over, on the table by Akaashi’s narrow bed. It’s next to the photo of his family, as well as a small owl figurine: the first thing Bokuto had brought back for Akaashi from the outside.

“I finished it a little while ago,” Akaashi answers, leaving out the part where he finished it for the third time late last night.

“Was it any good?”

Akaashi shrugs, even though Bokuto can’t see him. “The character motivations were a little weak.” He can hear Bokuto start to ask him what he means, but he cuts him off: “Alright, the vestibule doors are scheduled to open soon—you ready?”

“All set,” Bokuto answers, and the tone of his voice has shifted, the quicksilver quality of his voice solidifying into something more solid.

It’s one of the reasons Akaashi appreciates working with Bokuto—when it comes down to it, he takes the job seriously.

There are lives on the line, after all.

“Run with speed and with care,” Akaashi says, the traditional sendoff for runners.

One of the displays flashes with the message that the vestibule doors had opened, and then again when they closed.

He hears Bokuto inhale deeply, sucking in a lungful of outside air. Akaashi feels a small pang of jealousy in his gut, wishing he had the clearance to leave the bunker.

More than that, though—in a small, unacknowledged corner of his mind, he’s thought about standing next to Bokuto, inhaling deeply with him, joining him in the outside world.

“Where am I headed, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, pulling Akaashi from his own head.

Akaashi refocuses, setting the window highlighting Bokuto’s route to full screen. “You’re going to head east for about three kilometres; there’s been hostile movement in the northwest and we’ve been steering runners clear of the area for the time-being.”

“Any idea why?” Bokuto’s started running, his speech punctuated by the steady breathing that accompanied the exertion.

Bokuto never sounds tired, though, nor strained—it’s as though he lives beyond that, somehow.

“There are a few theories,” Akaashi answers. “Nothing conclusive.”

Bokuto grunts. “Typical.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Bokuto’s breathing. Each runner’s earpiece contains a tracking device, so Akaashi spends most missions watching runners’ progress by way of a moving dot across a map, following the route he’d mapped out.

Planning Bokuto’s routes always proves a challenge, though one Akaashi takes a degree of satisfaction in that he can’t quite find when he works with other runners.

Working with someone of Bokuto’s skill means that Akaashi doesn’t have to shy from certain obstacles; the runs are higher-risk, higher-reward. It has a way of heightening his level of investment. As of late, it’s become a high-wire act of balancing Bokuto’s safety with the necessity to go farther and farther to get the supplies they need; Akaashi’s sense of reasonable risk has begun to grow foggy where Bokuto is concerned.

Still, he tells himself that it’s this intellectual stimulation and challenge that drives him to always be working when Bokuto is scheduled for a run. Nothing to do with enjoying Bokuto’s conversation, or even just the sound of his voice.

And yet, he asks, for what feels like the hundredth time: “What does the sky look like today, Bokuto-san?”


End file.
